Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Pays to be a winner!” he yelled at the teams who were now onto the ropes section, reminding them that there would a bonus for the team that finished first, trying to get them to work together as a team, try that much harder. What’s the payoff for you, Chief? He wished he could figure out how to be a winner in his personal life, how to take this no-win scenario and save everyone—including himself.
Finally, hours later, he was sandy and sweaty himself, but finally heading home. He rehearsed various speeches the whole way there, trying out different tactics to thaw out Isaiah, start a dialogue. I’m sorry. I screwed up. I care about you. Tell me how to make this right. I feel so much for you it scares me and I do stupid shit. You’re my family, and I’d do anything to protect you.
But when he got home, the house was quiet, the kids all asleep in their beds when he checked in on them. And Isaiah’s door was firmly shut.
Mark went to it. Stood there for endless moments, trying to get up the courage to knock. But ultimately, he had to give up, shake his head and walk away. You really are a coward, Chief. He didn’t have half the guts of Swenson and the other recruits who were giving their goal their all, smashing every obstacle. Mark simply didn’t know how to do that here, how to find the courage to go after his most secret of dreams.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“When’s he getting here?” Daphne and Zoe danced back and forth in front of the chairs near the arrivals area at the airport.
“Soon.” Isaiah’s father could have gotten a taxi to his La Jolla house without much issue. However, Aunt Louise had volunteered to pick him up, apparently months ago, but then today had called Isaiah in a panic because Grandma was ill and needed to go to urgent care.
After saying a quick prayer that he not lose another family member any time soon, he’d offered to do it. Rather rash of him. But he was working on being more decisive, and he wasn’t going to back out simply because he knew a lecture and disapproval was coming. He needed to talk to his dad, and this was as good an excuse as any.
Besides if he was lucky, the kids would car nap again, saving him the circus of trying to enforce quiet time back at the house. Right now, though, no one was napping. Liam was fussy, probably wanting his nap time bottle, and the girls must have had sugar at school because they were wired.
“I miss Uncle Mark,” Daphne said for the hundredth time that week. “Why does he gotta work all the time?”
“It’s his job. He’s training people to do really hard jobs. It’s very important work. But he’ll have a day off soon, and I’m sure he’ll spend some of it with you.” Isaiah hoped he wasn’t promising too much. The kids missed Mark, missed his stories and voices, missed playing outside with him. Isaiah missed everything else. Mark’s smile. The way he used to look at Isaiah. The warmth in his voice. His strong grip holding Isaiah’s hand. His tight hugs and soft kisses.
And unlike the kids who had a fighting chance of getting Mark back, Isaiah was never getting his Mark back. And it was possible that guy had never really existed anyway. Just a mirage or figment of his over-active imagination. Maybe he’d wanted Mark to be that guy, his guy, so much that he’d read far too much into their...whatever it had been. What did you call it when you lose something you’d never had in the first place? Misery.
“There he is!” Daphne squealed with self-importance. Isaiah was surprised she remembered him from the funeral and other rare visits—his father hadn’t interacted much with the kids. He strode toward them, long strides, looking far too dapper for having endured eighteen hours of travel. All of a sudden, Isaiah was a kid again, waiting with the aunts for his dad to return from one of his many trips, hopping up and down, hoping he noticed him first, so impressed with his larger-than-life father with his crisp suits and neat hair and exotic souvenirs.
“Over here,” Isaiah called. He’d texted his dad that he’d be there instead of Aunt Louise, but he wasn’t sure he’d gotten the message. He could tell the moment his father spotted them because his face wrinkled up, distaste evident.
“You had to bring all the children?” His father didn’t hug him, which was to be expected, but Isaiah still had a pang. Not quite longing—he’d buried those needs long ago, but close.
“Yup.” Isaiah grabbed the girls’ hands and started following the signs to baggage claim. Might as well get this over with.